A Delicate Balance
by Librarian7
Summary: Even the most ordinary of activities becomes different, and maybe difficult, for Beth and Mick.
1. Chapter 1

Episode: Loosely based after Episode 1

Episode: Loosely based after Episode 1.10  
Pairing: Mick and Beth  
Spoilers: None really! pure fiction

**A Delicate Balance**

Chapter I

_"So, I got this wedding invitation. Want to go with me?"_

Seated alone in his office in the gathering twilight, Mick St. John could almost see Beth's words hanging in the air in front of him. It was such a, a _normal _sort of question. Why should it have prompted such panic in him? All he had to do was to say no, right? Right.

After the time they'd spent together over the holidays, they'd fallen into a rhythm of seeing each other frequently. The first time he'd called, and invited her to come over, he was astonished to find he actually had butterflies in his stomach. _Huh_, he thought, _guess I'm out of practice. Last time I asked a girl for a date was, when, 1952?_ Still, he'd called, and she'd given him a hard time about asking at the last minute, but she'd agreed. He knew she would. Even over the phone, he could sense her pulse, feel the blood in her veins quicken at the thought. It was, to say the least, flattering. And terrifying.

Perhaps things were a bit awkward that evening, at first, but as they sat and talked, sipped their drinks and listened to music, it got easier. He'd poured a glass of a nice red wine for her, and, after some hesitation, a glass of blood for himself. Beth insisted that his beverage of necessity didn't bother her. And for all he could see, or sense, it didn't. _Wow. She's totally accepting. I never would have thought a human would be this way. But it is Beth. Maybe I should have known. _

Beth smiled at him as though she could read his thoughts. "You know, Mick, the whole glass of blood thing—it's not a big deal. It's just you, and that's okay."

It was a pleasant evening. Neither wanted to push, neither wanted to be pushed. At the end of the evening, when he walked her to her car, there was another slightly awkward pause. Then she reached up a hand with a quick caress to the side of his face, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He found himself smiling, genuinely, not the tight, I-have-my-armor-on-and-you-can't-touch-me smile she'd seen so often. It felt good.

And that was how it started. Mostly just quiet times in his apartment, occasionally an evening at her place. A few movies out. He'd never have thought he'd find sitting in a dark theatre again, his arm around a pleasantly curvy young woman, so very enjoyable. Simply listening to her heartbeat, her laugh…hell, he even enjoyed listening to her munch her popcorn. He shook his head at that. It was so easy to get caught up. So damned easy to be with her.

Even the closeness he'd thought would be so difficult was not a burden. They seemed to have an unspoken pact—a hug here and there, some cuddling together on the couch, a brief and chaste goodnight kiss at the end of the evening. Both very careful not to go across that line. He knew that underneath, she wanted much more from him, and he could feel his own desire simmering in the background of his brain, but he tried to ignore it and enjoy what they had. He found himself reveling in the contact they had. It had been so long, so long that he'd been without the healing balm of a simple loving touch. For now, it was enough. It had to be.

And then last night. Beth came in with a tote bag full. Fresh flowers—"You need a little living color around here, Mick." Take out—he was glad he'd finally convinced her it didn't bother him to watch her eat, and he really didn't want her starving herself because she thought the smell of food would bother him. It did, a little, but he'd never tell her that. And watching her enjoyment was more than compensation for a few moments uneasiness. She'd also picked up her mail. She had two movies from Netflix that they'd selected together and planned to watch. Classic noir detective flicks. She'd pulled those out and handed them to him, while she checked through the stack of other envelopes. He saw her hesitate over one large cream-colored envelope, pull it from the stack, and open it. She paused for a long moment, thinking.

"Mick, I know crosses don't bother you—" she started, then paused again before continuing, "—how are you on the topic of sanctified ground?"

He shook his head a little, his eyebrows drawing together. "Fine. No problem. Why do you ask?"

And that's when she said it. "So, I got this wedding invitation. Want to go with me?"

Beth hadn't realized Mick's eyebrows could go up quite that far. She thought she'd seen him flustered before, but this… "Won't they be expecting you to bring Josh?" That was touching a subject they'd scrupulously avoided. He knew she was still seeing Josh, occasionally. There were times when he caught a trace of the man's cologne (and he privately thought Aramis was a terrible choice of scent, particularly when he was smelling it second-hand on Beth). It hurt him to think about it, but he knew she didn't want to break it off too suddenly. So putting the question out there shocked both of them.

"Actually, no. This is a sorority sister from college. They're only expecting me to bring," she looked him straight in the eyes and finished her sentence in a rush, "the man I'm currently seeing."

"And that's me?"

"For the last two weeks, that's only you."

_Ahh. A great opening to deflect the conversation from the wedding invitation_. "You want to talk about that?"

Beth shook her head, decisively. "There's really nothing to talk about. He stopped calling me, and I stopped calling him. And I seem to have someone else in my life now."

That stopped Mick cold in his tracks. He'd managed so far to avoid telling himself that they were actually dating, but this was getting hit in the face with it. Somewhere along the line they'd slipped past "just friends" into "couple." And he'd have to think about that. So he'd temporized. _Gotta buy myself a little time here_. "Can I think about it?" he'd asked.

"Sure. But not too long. I've got to RSVP." She'd looked at him in a way that made him think she was aware of some of the thoughts in his head, and he started really wondering if that whole blood bond thing worked two ways, or if it was just how astute she really was. "Think you can get it all figured out by tomorrow night?"

"I, umm, yeah, sure. Tomorrow night."

"Great. Now, which movie you want to watch first?"


	2. Chapter 2

See disclaimers for Ch I

Chapter II

The office was getting darker, but Mick didn't move. He'd spent hours last night after seeing Beth to her car, driving around the city he loved, the top down on his convertible, feeling the night breezes, thinking.

What the hell was he doing? Had he lost what was left of his mind? He'd been torn for some time, thinking that he couldn't decide whether it was better to send Beth away, go back to watching from afar—_safer for both of us_, he'd thought—and try to regain the precarious peace he'd found in being alone. Was it better to do that, with the sure knowledge that she'd be deeply hurt by what she could only see as his abandonment of her, not to mention what it would do to him? Or would it be better to keep her close, give her what happiness she could find with him, knowing that his own pain would be all the deeper when she eventually left him? He had made a promise to himself, long ago, that if it was needed, he would die for her. Question was, could he live for her?

Mick knew that he could take the pain. He was no great fan of pain, physical or emotional, and he'd had a lot of practice surviving the former and avoiding the latter, these last 50 years. Still, he'd come to no real decision when night fell, and Beth came knocking at his door.

Usually he met her at the door, welcomed her with a smile and a touch. Tonight he pulled out the electronic key, and buzzed her in.

"Mick, what's wrong? Why are the lights off?" she asked. "Are you all right?"

_So natural, her first concern is my well-being_. "I'm fine," he replied, rising from his desk. "Just thinking."

"Oh. But everything's okay?"

"Yes." He felt the need, as he often did these days, to fold her in his arms, to take refuge from the world in her embrace. At first, Mick resisted the impulse. He feared that in his vulnerability, he would awaken the demon sleeping fitfully in its chains. Then he thought, no, that's not what I'm looking for right now. Comfort, just a little comfort. That's all. It only took a few steps to close the space between them, and she slipped naturally into her place against his shoulder.

Beth was pleased, if a little surprised. Mick usually seemed to avoid hugs. And she was even more surprised when, after he wrapped himself around her, he dropped his head onto her shoulder. That was truly unusual. They stood quietly for a few minutes, neither wanting to break the contact, the unspoken communion of their hearts. Finally, without moving, Beth spoke. "Tell me what's wrong, Mick. Whatever it is_,"—providing it's not another one of those "it'll never work between us_" speeches—"we'll deal with it together."

"Hey," he replied, voice muffled against her shoulder, "can't a vampire just need a hug, once in a while?"

Beth recognized an evasion when she heard one, but she could live with that one. "Hugs," Beth said, deliberately putting a little tartness in her voice, "are not in short supply around here, Mick St. John." She tightened her arms a little for emphasis. "All you have to do is reach out." That got her a short laugh, and maybe she just thought there was a sniff.

Mick stepped back, and in the darkness maybe Beth was imagining a shine of moisture in his eyes. "You look beautiful this evening," he said.

She smiled at him, knowing he needed to be poked a little when he was in one of his melancholy moods. "As compared to all the other nights?"

The laugh this time actually sounded amused. "That was uncalled for, Beth."

Beth moved to turn on a few lights. While she was not looking directly at him, she ventured, "Is this about that wedding invitation thing? Because it's no big deal, you know. I can go by myself. Or skip the whole thing—I haven't seen Jenny for five years."

_This_, Mick thought, _is the perfect opportunity to say no_. He found he couldn't do it. He should have known it would be impossible to deny her something she wanted. It seemed like such a trivial, harmless request.

"Would I have to dress up?" he asked. "It's, uh, it's been awhile since--" Since _1952, in fact. Not that that was the social event of the season_. Sure, Coraline had worn a white lace dress, a veil, the whole nine yards. Mick remembered that very clearly. The ceremony was pretty much blanked out in his mind, overtaken by events that in retrospect were more important.

His mind was snapped back to the present when Beth giggled. "What you normally wear would be just fine, Mr. Perpetual Coolness."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter III

Chapter III

_Right on time_, Beth thought when she heard the knock on her door. Her heart beat a little faster, and she imagined that he knew that already. She liked the way he knocked—no hesitation, firmly but not too hard. _Oh, good grief, how goofed up am I, if I'm thinking about the way the man knocks on a door?_ she thought, laughing at herself.

She gave a last smooth to her dress. She'd spent some time shopping for it, and it had cost more than she could really afford. She was thinking that if it got her that look from Mick, the one where his eyes went dark and smoky, it was money well spent. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she opened the door.

Mick stood in the hallway, sunglasses in his hand. Deep within him, in their shared blood, he'd felt Beth's heart begin to beat faster, even before she answered. Then the door swung open, and he stopped, struck to stillness at the sight. Beth wore a knee-length sheath dress in electric blue, topped by a matching short jacket spangled with starburst patterns of sequins. Her hair was up in an elegant chignon, with a few carefully curled tendrils of hair loosely framing her face.

He had never seen her look more lovely. It was heart-stopping, heart-breaking. He knew that no matter what, he would remember this shining moment forever.

Beth smiled at him as she turned to pick up her purse, and the small package wrapped in white that lay next to it. _If the heat in his gaze were any more intense_, she thought, _he might just spontaneously combust_.

"Beth," he said, and there was a dark hoarseness in his voice that told her almost as much as his eyes had, "you look—you look—beautiful."

"Thank you." Beth smiled. _Worth every single penny_, she thought, and moved forward to walk with him down to where his car stood gleaming in the slanting light of the evening sun.

They spoke only of inconsequential matters during the ride, and she enjoyed watching his expressive eyebrows as he reacted to whatever she said. _Definitely goofed up_, she thought. _Beth, Beth, when you start thinking about how adorable his eyebrows are--seriously goofed up._

Mick couldn't have told anyone, later, how he got from her place to the church, or what they talked about on the way. He was completely overwhelmed by her presence, her scent, her heartbeat. Just her.

As Mick guided her into the church, with his usual light touch on the small of her back, Beth spotted several old college friends, and greeted them, enjoying the appreciative and speculative looks being thrown in their direction. _Yeah, girls_, she thought, _hottest guy here, and he's with me_. She put on her sweetest smile.

Mick watched the scene around him with some bemusement. He felt out of place, a raven in his black coat among a gaudy crowd of robins and bluebirds. And Beth, he thought, she seemed to move so naturally among the throng of people in the vestibule of the church, taking her present to the table piled with packages and envelopes. There were children, uncomfortably dressed up and excited, running everywhere. He could see Beth smiling at them, indulgently catching a little girl who tripped and bumped against her.

That sight tore a hole in his heart. Beth would make such a great mom, she must want children. She must know that with him, there was no chance of it. How could he allow her to cut herself off from that part of life? She had stepped away from him to share a few words with someone who must have been an old friend, but she looked back at him frequently, and always with a smile. He tried to respond in kind, but he wasn't sure it was entirely successful.

At last, it was time to enter the sanctuary, and Mick felt an irrational annoyance when the usher took Beth's arm to lead her forward to a seat. He stifled a short bitter laugh to himself. _So much for all my noble thoughts of renunciation, if I can't even stand to see her take someone else's arm for a few seconds. _

The ceremony was mercifully brief, and it was a respite just to sit silently, side by side, lost each in their own thoughts. Beth was enjoying the spectacle of it all. Jenny looked beautiful, radiant as any bride, and she'd even picked out decent looking bridesmaid dresses, strapless midnight blue satin gowns with a thin row of rhinestones at the bottom of the fitted bodice. Beth allowed herself a brief fantasy, picturing herself in a flawlessly beautiful gown, standing at the altar promising to love and honor the tall dark man currently seated beside her. Maybe it would never be reality, but she could dream…and after all, what was a wedding, as long as they were together? A very expensive way of proclaiming publicly a private commitment.

Mick also allowed himself a brief flash, imagining Beth as a bride, but never allowed himself to see the face of the phantom groom. He had vague memories of what it felt like to stand awkwardly awaiting his bride, the eager anticipation of what would come later. Someday, some man, some fortunate mortal, would be standing somewhere, waiting for Beth's approach with those same feelings in his head, and his gut. But he couldn't stand the thought for long. He turned his attention to the immediate moment, to his quiet perceptions of the woman beside him.


	4. Chapter 4

Sitting at the table, chatting with an old college friend, Beth allowed her hand to rest on the table, and was pleasantly surprised to find it covered by Mick's cool fingers

IV

Despite his study, being at the reception seemed to Mick like being dropped on the surface of an alien planet, like being inside a kaleidoscope. Scenes flickered and changed without sense.

A few quiet minutes as they waited outside the church hall for the bridal party to appear. "Pictures," Beth explained in response to his questioning look. "It always takes forever." Mick smiled down at her, standing close before him. "This is all right," he said.

The receiving line, for Beth to greet the bride and groom, and give Mick a half-heard introduction. "Beth, so glad you could be here. Nice to meet you, Nick." "Jen, you look lovely." And the groom's parents, the bride's parent's. "Beth, so nice to see you again. Is this your young man?" Beth giving him an impish smile at that. "Yes. My young man."

Finding a table, and offering to fetch her a glass of champagne, a plate of food. At the food table, he stood for a minute, struck by the variety, and completely mystified as to what she might like. It had been decades since he'd noticed food, and tastes seemed to have changed somewhat. Beth laughed a little at his selections. "This looks pretty random, Mick," she told him.

"I did the best I could," he replied ruefully. "I don't even know what half that stuff is." He poked a finger toward a rumaki. "If we had these in—you know—back then—I don't remember them."

"It's fine. And thank you for the effort."

They sipped the champagne together, although it was not really to Mick's taste, and he surreptitiously tipped the contents of his glass into hers. Beth found it a sweetly intimate gesture, even as it reminded her again of their differences.

Meeting a long series of Beth's old college friends. A seemingly endless string of introductions, to essentially interchangeable young women. "This is Rebecca (Bethany, Gillian, Rachel, Jennifer, Jennifer, Susan, Erin, Shannon, Jennifer….), she was a sorority sister. Rebecca, this is my friend, Mick St. John." "Nice to meet you." And the speculative looks, the appraising looks. One or two frankly inviting. Shaking hands. "Pleased to meet you."

Mick could see Beth grow more thoughtful, and steal a look at him as the bride and groom fed each other that first bite of wedding cake.

Dancing was better. Mick wasn't much of a dancer—when you were a musician, as he explained, you didn't get much of a chance to get on the dance floor—but holding her in a careful, formalized way, moving together, they each found to be an experience oddly both satisfying and frustrating, even if neither was ready to admit it.

Sitting at the table, chatting with an old college friend, Beth allowed her hand to rest on the table, and was pleasantly surprised to find it covered by Mick's long, cool fingers. She smiled at him, unexpectedly moved by such a simple touch. He so rarely made the first move.

About then, it was announced that the time had arrived for the throwing of the bouquet.

"Come on, Beth," her friend urged. "All the single girls!"

Beth rolled her eyes. "I don't think--" She glanced at Mick. How stupid this must seem to him, she thought.

He smiled at her. "It is the custom."

"According to Miss Manners?"

"According to Miss Manners." Hmm, he thought. His cover was blown. She knew he'd read up. She knew he'd needed to read up.

He could tell her smile was the slightest bit forced as she made her way up to the knot of young women pretending to jostle for position.

To Mick, in this crowd Beth stood out like a shining jewel in the darkness. She was the only known face, the only trusted face there. He viewed any gathering of humans a potential hazard, a danger to him should they learn of his true nature. Maybe he hadn't been chased by a torch-bearing mob, like his friend Josef, but he could picture it, and he was aware of how quickly a crowd could turn dangerous. And no matter how fast and how strong he was, enough humans could corner him and destroy him. He really didn't care much for crowds.

He knew those particular possibilities hadn't occurred to Beth. She was accepting of him, perhaps more so than she should be, and assumed everyone else would be equally tolerant.

At that moment, she was simply thinking that, after all, as much as she had enjoyed getting Mick out into such an aggressively normal sort of setting, as much as she'd enjoyed--why not admit it--showing off her handsome almost-boyfriend, she did have a nagging worry that he--that they--were out of place. She knew he was humoring her by being there, and she found his thoughtfulness and consideration intensely appealing. Maybe it was innate, maybe it was the manners he'd been raised with. She wondered if she was taking his good nature too much for granted. She was worrying a bit about him, about his reactions.

While she was lost in thought, there was a flash of movement right in front of her. She put up her hands instinctively, and somehow came up with the bouquet. "Oh, crap!" she thought, just before she was surrounded by giggling women. She could feel a cool, sardonic gaze resting on her like a weight from across the room, and she didn't dare look in that direction.

"Next to be married, huh?" Mick commented as he stood to hold her chair when she returned to the table.

She smiled ruefully. "Jen must've planned that. I'm embarrassed." She sat, and looking down at the bouquet began idly to pluck at the foliage.

Mick leaned forward with an odd, unreadable expression in his hazel eyes. "Why? You saying you don't want to get married?"

Beth looked up at him in flustered surprise, her blue eyes opening wide. "Are you asking me, Mick St. John?" she said.

It was his turn to be taken aback, realizing too late how his words had been misinterpreted. "Uhh, umm, not exactly—" He grimaced. "I mean, it wouldn't be a good idea, Beth."

She thought seriously about keeping him squirming on the hook a bit longer, but couldn't do it. "I know," she replied, "inadvisable." She paused. "You're kind of cute when you're flustered, you know that?"

"Cute. Wow, thanks." He gave her a mock frown, glancing around to see that no one was near enough to overhear. "Beth," he said in a low voice, "I think you should know—vampires are a lot of things, but they are—never—cute."

And so it went. The rituals were fulfilled. Mick had to admit, even to himself, that it had been—interesting. And illustrative of so many things.

Mick couldn't help but notice that Beth was very quiet on the ride home. Thoughtful. She kept thinking, if we were together, long term, how long before people noticed he wasn't aging? How long before I'd be going to social events by myself, making excuses why he couldn't attend? And when she thought of the children she'd seen, her heart yearned, a little. She didn't know if there were any chances for that, with Mick, but she suspected it was not possible, or not likely.

He'd planned to ask her if she wanted to go out for a drink, after the event, but seeing her mood, drove her straight home. "Would you like to change, come over and watch a movie or something?" It was odd, really. He'd thought this might be such a good way for her to realize more gently why this relationship was a bad idea for her, and now he couldn't bear to leave the evening this way, to walk away from her when she was feeling so desolate.

Beth had worried so much about his reactions, whether he would find the event tolerable, that her own response had thrown her. She honestly found quite suddenly that for the first time, she didn't want to be near him, and yet she didn't think she could watch him walk away. "Sure," she said, "give me about ten minutes, and I'll be with you, okay?"

He nodded. "Okay."


End file.
